Imperial: An X-Men fanfic
by Tbhcake
Summary: Charlotte Marks has been around for a long time; and she doesn't age. She can't refuses to remember her past, for it's too painful for her to bare. But there are some parts she can remember..about a certain Professor Charles Xavier, that are good and full of love. Can Charlotte reunite with him years later and help him channel a new mutant and perhaps control her own powers?


**hey guys I'm back its Tbhcake! I'm so excited to be up and writing again and I can't wait to be interacting with you guys again! I apologize for not being on the past couple of months I've been so busy with school. I'm not sure if I'll be continuing my other fanfic The Bloody Victory for The Hunger Games, but I hope to. Anyway, here's the first chapter of my all new X-Men fanfic Imperial! Be sure to review! They make my life and keep me going! Also, there's going to be a bit of a Carrie twist in the chapters to come. Just thought I'd put that out there. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer- I don't own any of the X-Men characters or franchise ( sadly ) I only own my OC Charlotte Marks **

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Imperial

An X-men Fanfiction

Chapter 1:

The wind vainly played with my hair that was too short to whip around in the breeze. It was somewhat of a pleasant day, even though the sunrise was covered partly by somber looking clouds. Maine was never one of my favorite states, but I have to admit, the scenery is pretty impressive.

The pine trees here were definitely dominant ( over the sense of smell above all; the scent of pine stays on my clothes for weeks ), but the lakes were the brightest feature this state has. Even though the water was cold, it was refreshing; it seemed to numb my brain and rid me of all my dark thoughts for a while, which I liked very much.

This is why, out of all places, I chose to go to Maine to live.

_God_, I thought to myself, _I sound like I have something to prove._

My pink athletic shorts stuck to my legs from 3 miles of sweat, and my grey shirt was in desperate need of a wash. My tiny iPod nano ( yes I still use iPods, I'm sort of an oldie ) jumps every time I take a step, with the Beatles song Come Together spurting out of the headphones.

I've always been a morning person, so everyday I get up and run a few miles, then I jump into a nearby lake for a few minutes to cool off.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, just trying to enjoy the morning and shake off the dark thoughts; the music makes it easier for me.

"He wear no shoeshine, he got toe-jam football

He got monkey finger, he shoot coca-cola

He say "I know you, you know me"

One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

Come together right now over-"

I frown as the music abruptly stops. I look down to see a black screen with a blinking charger sign on it. Rolling my eyes at my iPod's inability to do one job, I slow my pace down to a walk, no being very motivated without music.

I run my fingers through my short hair, which is soaked in sweat, and sigh to myself. All my days were the same. Get up. Get ready. Run. Swim. Go to work. Sessions. Go home. Practice singing and the piano. Sleep. Repeat. Every single day.

I don't like change. At all. Well, I suppose all depressed people don't.

I didn't consider myself depressed ( the doctors do though ) I mean I'm never sulking around my house, waiting for death to succumb me; there was one time where I was like that, but that was years, and I mean years ago.

It was when I lost someone I didn't think I could live without. Well, technically speaking, he lost me. And I never truly recovered. When he was with me, I was completely and totally carefree, I actually hated order and loved changed. But when he was gone, the light switch flipped, and I became the opposite.

There was one thing that would never change though. I'm not a people person. I've never really been good at making friends; I'm better at pushing them out. So that's what I do. I shut people out. And it's pretty easy, considering my...abilities.

_So much for pushing out the dark thoughts ,_ I thought.

I started to near the lake, it's beautiful water glinting in the sun. A scowl has etched itself onto my face, thinking of what I'll have to tell my doctor ( aka a shrink even though she says she's a professor, not a shrink. Cue eye roll ) all about how I started She'll probably make me stay for a longer session; or worse. She'll actually make me talk about my past.

I know what you're thinking. Why not just lie? Why not say you've been having good thoughts? Well for one I'm a horrible liar and she'll start making me go everyday of the week AGAIN if she finds out I'm not telling the truth. You only make that mistake once. And when I say I'm a bad liar, I mean it. I can't lie for crap. If you have me for a lawyer, you basically just dug yourself a grave.

As if I already don't feel crazy enough without a freaking head doctor. I was assigned this "professor" by my main doctor who said I needed extra sessions. It was mandatory for me apparently. I really hate my main doctor.

All my past seemed okay in my head, but whenever I talk about it out loud, I feel like I'm reliving a horror story and it embarrasses me because I'm surrounded by people with picturesque lives who get everything they want. Everyone in Chamberlain already thinks I'm a head case without my abilities. So that's why I shut people out.

So they never know what I'm capable of. My appearance helps that as well. I'm not an attractive person. My hair was all matted ( that's why it's all cut off now ), I had sickly white colored skin, and above all, were my eyes.

One eye was a blue-ish, green-ish color, and the other was a bright gold. I wear contacts everywhere now, embarrassed with how they look. The only time I didn't wear them was when I ran and played the piano. They were the only places. I could truly be alone and free. I didn't have to hide in remote parts of Chamberlain where I usually went running to avoid social interactions. Or when I was at home, writing lyrics and playing sonitinas.

As I near the edge of the cliff of the lake, I begin to take off my socks and sneakers. My sneakers were white with purple streaks on the side, and I was in desperate need of a new pair. The soles were worn, and my toes were so cramped up in the top of the shoe. I quickly pull my headphones out of my ears and throw my dead iPod on the ground.

Seriously. One job.

Looking down over the cliff, I estimate it's about 30-40 feet high. Perfect. I take a few steps back out to the tree line, and then I sprint forward and fling myself off the cliff.

I close my eyes as I hear the wind rushing past my ears.

When I jumped, I felt free and pieces of the old me started to come back. A small smile made its way onto my face as I neared the water. I clasped my hands together into a diving position and let the water take me down. The coldness was barely noticeable at first, but then it became the only thing I knew. The water quickly rushed into my eyes and ears, dimming my senses ever so slightly. All I could see for as far as light years was darkness. It was very calming. I could feel the currents kissing my hands and feet ever so slightly. In the water, I felt alive.

I would've stayed under there forever, but lack of air beat pleasure and I bobbed my head above the surface. Immediately the cool air filled my lungs and stung the tips of my ears and nose. I slowly brought my feet up to the surface and looked up at the sky, studying the grey and blobbed clouds. Floating was my favorite part of being in the water, and I was rather good at it too. It allowed me to zone out and pick of the rare pieces of my past that were pleasant and good. I could hear a soft piano tune starting in my head, and I know I was going back into my memories. I couldn't make anything of the clouds, so I let myself slip back into my head.

_Since I already started to think about my past again, might as well go all the way_, I thought silently as I slipped back into my mind.

April 5th, 1956

The bar was crowded tonight; a lot more than usual, which annoyed me because my usual seat at the bar was taken by some laughing, drunk oaf who's face is taken over by an ugly looking goatee. So here I am. Crammed into the back of the bar at an isolated table; alone. Which I didn't particularly hate, but I didn't particularly like being alone either. My fingers absently tapped against the wood of the table to a ballad I was learning by Wolfgang Amadeus Motzart. The movement of my fingers was as routine as blinking for me now.

I took another sip of my soda pop, and I let my eyes wonder around the bar and analyze everyone. There were drunkards everywhere, laughing obnoxiously and prodding very inappropriately at some of the women around them. There were also a lot of women there as well, wearing very scandalous looking articles of clothing and seducing all the men around them. I sighed. Humanity is taking a toll for the worst. I take another sip of the soda I have and feel my eyes widen and I shiver.

I could feel someone's gaze on me, and it was making me uncomfortable. I lowered the can of pop slowly and stared down at the table. I was mentally debating whether or not I should look up to meet his or her eyes, when my brain suddenly made the decision for me. Unconsciously, I raised my head and found myself looking into the most stunning pair of blue eyes I've ever seen. My mouth fell open slightly, because this guy was very attractive. He had pale skin with neatly combed brown hair ( unlike most people who were in this bar who had hornets nests for hair ). He was wearing a brown suit jacket that was open buttoned at the top, and he actually didn't look like he was hammered. Feeling awkward and insecure under his unwavering gaze, I started pulling at my long brown hair ( that was usually matted) which was in nice neat curls. I've never had a guy give me a second glance, let alone stare at me.

I sighed, realizing that he probably was just drunk, and took a reality check. Guys didn't like me. At all. And my weird colored eyes didn't help. I stared down at my hands, feeling my cheeks getting red from my embarrassment and stupidity. I've always wanted to know what love was like, but no guy would ever want me if they gave me a good hard once over. I felt unshed tears begin to fill up in my eyes.

No. I thought. Not here.

I quickly got my purse out to pay the tab, and my eyes accidentally looked up to where the stranger was still sitting. I almost dropped my purse in shock to what I saw. The stranger was still staring at me, unmoving from where he was before. My breath started to become uneven, and my heart rate increased. What should I do? Should I go up to him? Stay here? Leave and see if he follows? As I was debating this in my head, the weird oaf with the goatee stumbles into me. A gasp radiates through my body, and I'm shaken from my thoughts of the stranger. I was not expecting that sudden touch. The man looks up at me, and his mouth turns up into a creepy, lustful smile.

"Hello beautiful. I'd say I'm sorry for stumbling into you, but it'd be a lie," the creeper said, his hands starting to snake up my waist.

"Please keep your hands off of me," I said with as much authority and politeness as I could. If a woman of my class was caught talking down to a man, she would drop a few ranks in her social life.

"Oh feisty... And French...Well I'm always up for a challenge," he said, wetting his lips. His hands started to ride up the edge of my skirt and I started to see red. When he put his hands on me again, a vibration went through my spine and and purple aurora came from my hands. He flew off me, hitting the bar wall and landing on the floor. I took a few deep breaths, panting heavily. He sat up and shook his head a few times, looking dizzy. He looked at me angrily and stood up, clenching his fists. My stomach twisted and my mouth ran dry. He was mad.

The man started towards me and raised his hand, as if he were going to strike me down. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and he blinked a few times, looking confused as to what was going on. Drunkidly, he stumbled back to the bar, without another word to me. My face contorted into a frown. What was that? I mean I knew I had a special ability, but I didn't think I could change someone's mind about beating someone up.

Rubbing my eyes, as if to see if this was all real, I sat down in my seat and went to grab my purse, but someone else's hand collided with mine. I looked up and gasped when I saw the color of the person's eyes. A beautiful icy blue. My mouth opens and closes, as if I was a fish without water, with no noise coming out of it.

"Here," the stranger says pleasantly, not sounding drunk at all, handing me my purse.

"Uh...T-Thanks," I stumble, taking my hand clutch from him. My English wasn't amazing, and I could feel my dominant french accent seeping into my voice. Gosh he was gorgeous.

"Mind if I sit?" He inquires, pointing to the seat across from me.

"Um.. Sure?" I say more like a question than an answer. He chuckles slightly at my words, and I can't help but think how adorable his laugh is.

The blue-eyed stranger sits down in the chair across from me, looking at me again. He flags down a waitress and orders a burboun and a soda for me. After he places his order, he continues to look at me, his gaze un breaking. At first I felt uncomfortable, but as he kept staring I started to get angry. I get that I'm a freak, and my eyes are weird and wrong, but he didn't have to stare.

"Look is there something I can do for you? Or are you going to sit there staring at my eyes the whole time?" I snarl, my anger flaring.

The mans gaze broke and he looks caught off guard and shocked.

"No-I'm not... You think I'm staring at your eyes?" The stranger says, looking somewhat offended. I almost scoff.

"I know they're weird. I just had pink eye so I couldn't put the contacts in and-" I started rambling about my weird eyes.

"I don't think they're weird. If anything I think they're beautiful," the stranger says gently, giving me a small smile.

My eyes widen, and I can feel my mouth start to hang open again.

"You-you do?" I ask quietly, fidgeting in my seat. No man ( or woman really ) has ever truly excepted me for my real self. It's the reason I spent years in the correctional institute, the reason why my parents abandoned me, and above all; why no one would love me.

"Of course! Everyone is perfect in their own unique way," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "The only reason I was staring at you was because I'm trying to figure you out. You're very hard for me to read," he says, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

Oh. Well now I feel stupid. I thought he may have found me pretty and that was the reason he was staring. I felt my cheeks heating up and I looked down at my hands, embarrassed. The stranger seems to realize what he's said and starts to flounder.

"Wait no! That's not- I mean I wasn't staring at you because you're beautiful- I mean you are beautiful, gorgeous even- I meant that-" he stutters, making me blush even more. The man sighs helplessly, his own face turning a tomato color.

"I feel like I'm just digging myself a bigger hole," he chuckles, tousling his hair. I laugh quietly. I really wanted to run my fingers through his hair. It looked so soft.

"So anyway... I was wondering... How were you able to get that big, sweaty, guy off of you?" The man asks, looking at me over his beer glass. My eyes widen and my eyebrows arch. He saw what I did. He's here to take me back to the institute. To the nut house. I start to panic.

"Look I know it looks weird, but I swear I'm perfectly normal. Please, please, please, don't take me back to the shrink. Please," I beg him, my eyes watering. I couldn't go back there. Maybe I could make a run for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the door.

"What? No no no I'm not someone from a...shrink... I'm like you. I have special abilities," he says, placing his hand over mine. I couldn't help but marvel at how soft his hand felt. And how perfectly it fit over mine.

"Prove it," I quip, pulling my hand ( reluctantly ) away from his. I eye him suspiciously as he looks to the waitress who's coming back with our drinks. She puts our drinks down in front of us, and the man puts his forefinger and middle finger to his temple.

"Our drinks have no cost," he mumbles, looking the waitress straight in the eye.

"Your drinks have no cost," She repeats monotone.

"You're dismissed," he says lightly, and the waitress turns and leaves. I gape in astonishment.

"oh mon Dieu ... comment avez-vous fait cela?.," I gasp out, still shocked from his abilities. He looks at me strangely, and that was when I realized I had accidentally spoken in French. My cheeks burn in embarrassment and I quickly translate my words to English.

"Oh my goodness... How did you do that?" I say once again, this time in English. The man laughs lightly, before answering my question.

"Easy love. I'm a telepath. I can read and manipulate every single mind in this room. Apart from yours," he says, looking confused as he says the last part. My eyebrows raise slightly, "Here... Sex...money...sex...money...cat.." He states, looking to different people around the room. I stifle a giggle at the last one, who was a rather masculine looking man, who was supposedly thinking about a cat.

"But when I go to read your mind, I see nothing. Nothing. It's impossibly frustrating," he says, leaning back resignedly in his chair.

"... Is there something wrong with me?" I ask uncertainly.

The man lets out a booming laugh, which makes my stomach do flips.

"See... I tell you that I can read minds, and you think there's something wrong with you," he chuckles, his eyes alight with laughter. I shrug slightly and chuckle.

"So... What exactly is your ability?" The man asks reaching for his drink and taking a drink of it.

"I'm actually not sure. I know it works whenever I'm feeling threatened. That's how that man flew off me before. But I really don't know what it is. I haven't really tried to embrace my ability... It's cost me a lot," I mumble, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Well, it just so happens, you're looking at a graduate from Oxford who majored in genetic mutations, and he can help you find out about, develop, and control your mutation," the blue eyed man said, taking another sip of his drink.

Mutation. Now THAT made me feel weird. Like I was cut up and put back together in horrid ways. I didn't like that word. It felt weird on my tongue. It tasted like metal and apples.

"So...you're saying you'll help me?" I say uncertainly, feeling hope that this man could help me discover more about my... Mutation.. And how to control it.

"Not only that, but I will help you find your path in this world," he says, smiling at me. Butterflies take over my stomach.

"Okay. I'll have you teach me...um...," I stutter, looking for a name. The man laughs and puts out his hand to shake. I gladly take it.

"Charles Xavier."

"Charlotte Marks."

"Well Miss Marks, it was a pleasure to meet you. When should we begin?" Mr. Xavier said, draining the last of his drink.

"Please Mr. Xavier, call me Charlotte. And we can start whenever you please, just name a date and time," I say, picking up my purse.

"Alright Charlotte but only if you call me Charles; Mr. Xavier makes me sound old," he chuckles.

"Alright... Charles," I smile, looking back into those stunning blue eyes.

"How does tomorrow night.. Say 8 o'clock at this very table we begin our first meeting?" Charles inquires.

"Perfect. I'll see you then," I say moving to get up and to go to the door.

"Wait! Charlotte!" Charles exclaims over the noise before I have a chance to get out the door. I look back and see him rushing to see me off.

"Is everything alright Charles?" I ask a little worried at his outburst.

"Yes... I was just wondering... Say if we were ever to go to war, us meaning the mutants, with the humans, do you think we could stand a chance against them?" He asks, his eyes clouded over with curiosity and fear.

"I don't know... It depends on how many mutants we had on our side and how strong their abilities were... Why do you ask?" I say, leaning back toward him, getting a little nervous. I mean war was a big deal.

As soon as I asked that question, that seemed to snap him back. Charles' eyes lost the terrorized look in them and he relaxed... Not completely though.

"Oh no reason. Just curious as to your opinion," he said casually. I knew there was something behind this, but I wasn't going to push it. I could always ask him tomorrow.

"Until tomorrow then Charlotte," Charles says, shaking my hand gently, offering me a kind smile.

"Until tomorrow Charles," I said, stepping out into the night, feeling his comforting stare follow me as I walked out of the tavern.

My eyelids fly open as a small wave of water comes over my head. The water flows into my nose, burning the inside of my head. I quickly paddle up to the surface and breathe in, hacking up the salty water. I look at the sun, which has gone from the serene looking sunrise, to a rainy looking midday. Oh merde! I was going to be late for my session! I fly out of the water and shakily make my way up the slippery grass hill near the cliff, falling twice face first into the mud. I sprint over to my sneakers and socks and throw them on as quickly as possible and fly out if the grove.

It was only until I was halfway home for me to realize I left my dead iPod on the cliff.

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**So there's the first chapter! I'll update soon! Make sure to review! Thanks!**

**-Tbhcake**


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